Stronger: Trading Brokenness for Unbreakable Strength

STRONGER

Published by David C Cook

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Colorado Springs, CO 80918 U.S.A.

David C. Cook Distribution Canada

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David C Cook U.K., Kingsway Communications

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All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise noted, are taken from the Holy Bible,

New International Version®. NIV®. Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984 by International

Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved. Scripture

quotations marked NKJV are taken from the New King James Version.

Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights

reserved. The author has added italics to Scripture quotations for emphasis.

LCCN 2010930345

ISBN 978-1-4347-6446-1

eISBN 978-1-4347-0260-9

© 2010 Jim Daly

Published in association with the literary agency of WordServe Literary

Group, Ltd., 10152 S. Knoll Circle, Highlands Ranch, CO 80130.

The Team: Brian Thomasson, Alex Field, Amy Kiechlin,

Sarah Schultz, Caitlyn York, Karen Athen

Cover Design: Rule 29, Justin Ahrens

Cover Image: iStockphoto, royalty-free

First Edition 2010

Dedication

To Christ who strengthens us. He paid the ransom for our souls. To

Him belongs all the glory and honor. And to the countless people, some described in this book, who have been courageous witnesses for Jesus Christ through difficult circumstances. For Him and Him alone!

Contents

Introduction

Part 1

Chapter 1: When I Am Weak

Chapter 2: Double, Double Toil and Trouble

Chapter 3: The Choice: Beaten, Bitter, or Broken

Part 2

Chapter 4: Unconditional Surrender

Chapter 5: God’s Invitation

Chapter 6: Acceptance and Trust

Chapter 7: Authentic Joy

Part 3

Chapter 8: Strength through Perseverance

Chapter 9: Strength through Character

Chapter 10: Strength through Hope

Chapter 11: A Vision of Strength

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

Notes

Introduction

Several years ago, when I served in the international division of Focus on the Family, I was in Beijing to explore opportunities to expand our work in China. It was the end of my stay, and I was saying good-bye at the airport to a kind Chinese missionary couple who had hosted me for part of my trip. I’d started to move toward the line for boarding my plane when the husband, an earnest man in his thirties, said, We’ll be praying for you.

Normally, my response to a message like that would be, I’ll pray for you, too. And I would mean it. But for some reason on this day, the Lord prompted me to say something different. I stopped, shifted the bag on my shoulder, and asked, "How do you pray for us?"

The husband hesitated, glanced at his wife, and then turned back to me. I could see he was struggling to find the right words to answer me.

Well, he finally said, we are praying … for the church in America to get more persecution. He smiled to show he meant no offense. You see, we see you as rather weak.

On my flight home, I had many hours to think about this man’s statement. He, and obviously others viewing the United States from the outside, believes that we in the U.S. church are weak, no doubt in both our faith and our deeds. To counter our weakness, we need strength. And their solution to give us that strength is to pray for persecution to land on our doorstep.

That’s not what our prayers are usually about, I thought. We pray for the gospel to reach far and wide. We ask for protection for our families and loved ones. We seek deliverance from trials. And yes, we ask God for strength to get through the hard times. But pray for persecution?

The more I thought about it, however, the more I realized that my missionary friend was on to something. In my various roles at Focus on the Family, most recently as president, I have come into contact with many, many hurting people in the United States and around the world. These men and women are struggling. They feel distressed, useless, and vulnerable. Some of the most devastated of all are Christians. They gave their hearts to Christ and anticipated a better life. But instead they discovered trial and pain.

You might be one of them.

Yet in my travels I have also encountered another group of Christian men, women, and children. They, too, face trauma and heartache, yet they are not overwhelmed. You could even say that they embrace their pain. Though the anguish is just as real to them, their ability to cope is radically different. At a point of incalculable weakness, somehow they tap into a new power that lifts them beyond where they started.

They are growing stronger.

My conversation with the missionary that day in Beijing led me to reflect on the relationship between troubles, weakness, and strength in God’s sovereign plan. I began to wonder: Are the discouraged and brokenhearted actually the people who are closest to discovering joy and power in the Lord? Is great weakness the essential ingredient to discovering great strength? Have we missed this message somehow? Is this a wonderful gift that the Lord is holding out to every nation, to every church, to every individual? To me?

And maybe to you, too?

In the pages ahead, we will take a look at real strength—what it is, what it isn’t, and what God says about it. I think you’ll be encouraged. The Lord does not waste our frustrations and our tears. I believe that when we let Him, He uses our pain and failures and weakness for incredible good—for ourselves and for His glory.

I hope you’ll join me.

Jim Daly

www.JimDalyBlog.com

Chapter 1

When I Am Weak

This isn’t how it works in the movies.

On a chilly Sunday morning in December, David Works and his family—his wife, Marie, and daughters Stephanie, Laurie, Rachel, and Grace—finish worshipping at New Life Church in Colorado Springs. As usual, they stay after the service to enjoy conversation with friends. On their way to the exit, David announces that lunch will be at a nearby hamburger restaurant called Good Times. The members of the Works family pull their coats tighter and step into a brisk breeze, shuffling carefully across patches of snow in the parking lot.

As the family approaches its white Toyota Sienna van, Laurie heads for the left-side sliding door.

No, no—you have to sit in the back on the other side, Rachel says.

It is a Works family tradition that everyone keeps the same seat for both parts of a trip. Laurie rode to church in the rear right seat of the van, and Rachel intends to continue the custom.

Okay, okay, Laurie says.

She walks around the back of the van, enters through the right-side sliding door, and takes her place in the back seat. Rachel, behind Laurie, pauses in front of the open right-side door to look for something in her purse.

That is when it starts.

David, sitting in the front passenger seat and in the process of buckling his seat belt, hears a sharp metallic sound. What was that? He lets go of the seat belt and swivels his head to the right, surveying the parking lot. To his shock, a young man dressed in black stands just twenty yards away. He’s pointing a large assault rifle at the Toyota.

What in the world?

Another shot rings out.

Get down! Get down! There’s a shooter out there! He’s shooting at us! David screams. He curls up in the van’s footwell, trying to get as low as possible. He hears the sound of more gunshots mixed with his family’s screams. The sound of the shots changes; David understands the shooter is on the move.

Wait a minute—where is Rachel?

She’d been just outside the van when the shooting started. David twists to look behind him. His sixteen-year-old daughter is still standing next to the Toyota, a dazed look on her face. Her burnt-orange T-shirt has a hole in it at the level of her lower-right rib cage.

Rachel! David cries.

I think I’ve been shot, Rachel says. Suddenly, she collapses, falling backward onto the blacktop.

David jerks his door handle and jumps out. The instant his feet hit the ground, another volley of bullets whizz past his head. He turns; the gunman is no more than ten yards away, rifle pointed directly at him. Before he can move, David feels pain on his right side, just above his waist. He too falls to the pavement. The shots continue.

Gracie, get down and play dead! He’s still here! David orders. His youngest daughter, eleven years old, had been moving from the backseat to help her sister.

The firing stops momentarily, then resumes, but the sound is more distant and muffled. David realizes the gunman has gone into the church.

David has been shot in the abdomen and groin. He stretches his arm in Rachel’s direction, willing his body to move. His daughter needs her father—her protector—yet David can’t even crawl. Through tears, he says, I’m so sorry, honey. I can’t reach you.

That’s okay, Daddy, Rachel whispers.¹

On this horrifying, heartwrenching day, David Works would give anything to turn into a Hollywood action hero. If this were a movie, he would be Superman, leaping in front of his daughter and watching bullets bounce harmlessly off his chest. With his super strength, he would pick up the van and fly his family to safety, then return to catch the bad guy before he could hurt anyone else.

But this isn’t a movie.

David Works has no super strength. He is lying in a church parking lot, weak, helpless, and bleeding, and watching the life ebb from his beloved daughter.

Panic Attacks

Let’s leave this traumatic scene for the moment and visit the mother of a different family. Lori Mangrum is a pastor’s wife. She and her husband, John, have two children. But Lori isn’t thinking about her family right now. She’s slumped in a chair at home. The curtains are drawn. For months, she hasn’t slept or eaten well.

Lori grew up in a Christian home and learned to smile and appear joyful no matter what was going on around her. Like any family, she and her parents and siblings had their share of troubles, but Lori didn’t want to burden her parents with her own fears and worries. She became the sunshine for her family, always working to cheer up others but rarely addressing her own emotional needs.

Years later, after marrying John, having kids, and moving to a new home, Lori started experiencing panic attacks. Without warning, feelings of terror overwhelmed her. She felt a crushing weight in her chest and became nauseous, dizzy, and disoriented. She thought she would die. The attacks increased to the point that Lori couldn’t drive a car or go into a grocery store.

One day, after a series of tests, a physician explained to Lori that she had a benign heart condition that could cause some of the symptoms of panic attacks. Finally! Lori thought. I knew they would find something!

But the doctor wasn’t finished.

You have another problem, he said gently. I believe this problem manifested itself because of some psychological problems. I want you to see a psychiatrist.

Lori couldn’t believe it. I don’t have any stress, she told herself, and what stress I do have I handle better than many others!

Now, sitting in the dark at home for week upon week, Lori is depressed. Friends have told her, Pray harder, get yourself together, and stop this! Yet she doesn’t even have the energy to talk, eat, or take a shower. Lori is disgusted with herself. She would give anything to change her circumstances, but emotionally, she feels weak and helpless.²

Those Uncomfortable Feelings

You may never have faced a crazed gunman or dealt with debilitating depression, but I’m guessing that at some point in life—perhaps many times—you’ve experienced some of the same feelings that David Works and Lori Mangrum went through in the incidents described above.

Weak. Helpless. Useless. Vulnerable.

Some pretty uncomfortable feelings, right?

We all do our best to avoid situations that expose our failings and fragility. But whether it’s a life-or-death crisis or the challenge of simply getting through another day, sooner or later we each confront the undesired sense of being powerless, worthless, feeble, disabled, and dependent on others.

And we don’t like it.

Most of us, especially in America, grow up with the idea that we can shape our own destinies. This, after all, is the land of opportunity. This is a place where dreams come true. We see ourselves as rugged individualists, fully capable of taking control of our lives and rising to the top.

And the weak? Those people are not us. Most of us profess to have empathy for the struggling and more helpless members of our society. But many of us are also conditioned to feel, deep down, a certain amount of disdain for the unfortunate few. You’re homeless? That’s too bad—but maybe you need to work harder at finding a job. You’re depressed? Yeah, I get discouraged sometimes too—but enough of feeling sorry for yourself; it’s time to get yourself together.

Part of the problem is that the weak and helpless are all around us, and when we see others having problems, it reminds us that we’re vulnerable too. Some of us cope by closing our eyes and shutting our ears to troubles. I will confess that this can be my attitude at times. But no matter how hard we try to ignore the trials of others, they rise to our attention like steam from a teapot. We think we’ve guarded our minds and hearts, and suddenly we’re faced with:

• The distraught mother who watches her teenage son storm out of the house in anger, not knowing what to say or do and wondering when or if she’ll see him again.

• The discouraged father of four who has lost his job, has been evicted from their home, and is so deeply in debt that he doesn’t see a way out.

• The terrified little girl who is sexually molested by her uncle when Mom isn’t home and is told to keep quiet about it or else.

• The lonely wife who thought she was marrying a soul mate and is desperate because she can’t get her husband to talk to her.

• The sullen fourth-grader who repeatedly gets teased and bullied by a sixth-grader on the way home from school.

• The worried single mom whose son is being recruited by a neighborhood gang.

• The shocked fifty-year-old who has just been diagnosed with terminal cancer.

• The young woman who feels paralyzed by depression and guilt over an abortion.

• The husband who can’t forgive himself for an affair.

• The despairing grandmother who is watching her children and grandchildren destroy their lives with alcohol and drugs, yet doesn’t know what to do about it.

It’s hard enough to put aside the struggles and weaknesses of family, friends, coworkers, and neighbors. It’s harder still when the hurting wife, husband, mother, father, little girl, young man, or grandmother is us.

Do you know what I’m talking about? Are there times when you feel utterly incapable of dealing with the skyscraper-sized obstacle in your path? When you wish you didn’t feel more helpless than a bug on your back? When you wish you were Superman or Wonder Woman instead of plain old pint-sized me?

If so, I understand at least some of what you’re experiencing. One of my earliest memories, from when I was four years old, is of a man suddenly bursting through our front door one night as my brothers and sisters and I were watching TV. The man looked like a monster. His eyes were puffy, red, and glassy. His face was unshaven. He carried an oak-handled, ball-peen hammer in one hand and a jug of Gallo burgundy wine in the other.

The half man, half monster was my father, and he was looking for my mother. When he realized she wasn’t there, he roared, This is what I’m going to do to your mother! He swung the hammer and bashed a giant hole in the wall. I spent the rest of that night in my bedroom, cowering under a blanket, even after the police arrived and took my dad away.

Up to that point, I’d enjoyed a fairly typical childhood. I was more worried about missing favorite TV shows